One Last Grenade

I, Carlos Clarke, am leading a squad of 6 Spec-Ops soldiers. We are fighting Russian soldiers in an underground Subway station in New York. Less than 30 minutes ago we had flown out here after being told of a “light”’ Russian presence in the area. Trust Intel to mark nearly a hundred soldiers as “light.”

Regardless, we thought we had managed to push them back a ways, finally cornering them in the underground subway station, but it had merely been a muse. They ambushed us, killing two of our comrades, and catching us by surprise.

Submitted: January 03, 2015

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Submitted: January 03, 2015

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“I’m setting up an MG!” James shouts out, ripping open his L86a1 machine gun’s bipod and setting it up against an overturned ticket machine.

I, Carlos Clarke, am leading a squad of 6 Spec-Ops soldiers. We are fighting Russian soldiers in an underground Subway station in New York. Less than 30 minutes ago we had flown out here
after being told of a “light”’ Russian presence in the area. Trust Intel to mark nearly a hundred soldiers as “light.”

Regardless, we thought we had managed to push them back a ways, finally cornering them in the underground subway station, but it had merely been a muse. They ambushed us, killing two of our
comrades, and catching us by surprise.

I duck around a brick pillar as bullets whiz past, ripping the empty magazine from my rifle and jamming in a new one. For every soldier we kill, another two appear, seemingly out of nowhere -
they must be using the subway trains to bring in reinforcements.

I curse, there is no way we’ll last 20 minutes. For now, the six of us are all that stands between the Russians and New York.

Peeking out from behind the pillar, I shoot at the oncoming soldiers, taking down two of them. Hudson had retreated to the station’s entrance, covering the bottlenecked-stairs with all the C4
we have left. It will be a last resort, killing off many of them and bringing down the ceiling to trap the survivors down here.

“Get ready to fall back!” I shout, getting back behind cover. Grabbing a grenade, I pull out the pin with my teeth. As I peek around the pillar and throw it, an RPG whizzes past my
head, missing me by mere inches.

The pained scream after it’s explosion behind me says that someone wasn’t nearly so lucky. Looking back, I can see Jason lying on the ground, a large bloody stump where his legs used to be. I
turn away as his screams are cut off, shooting at the soldiers before ducking back behind the pillar.

“Flanking!” Aaron shouts, kicking in a door a few yards from my left. Running from cover, I follow him through, bursting into a small maintenance hallway. Countless pipes and electrical wires
run along one side, leaving barely enough room to walk.

The two of us sneak down the hallway, emerging at the bottom of a small staircase. At the top of the stairs is a small security booth overlooking the battle below. A Russian stands at the
edge, reloading an M40a5 sniper rifle.

Reaching for my knife, I hold out my free hand behind me, telling Aaron to stay back as I creep up behind the soldier. Then I grab his head, stabbing my knife deep into his neck. He dies
instantly, and I drop his limp body to the ground.

Pulling my assault rifle from my back, I stand behind the shattered window, aiming down the sights at the Russian soldiers below. As I start shooting, Aaron takes his place beside me,
the two of us shooting at their flank.

Caught between us and the rest of our squad, the Russians are quickly eliminated, but there is no time to celebrate. I can hear another train below us - another wave is on the way. Taking
advantage of the momentary lapse in action, I reload my gun. “I’m almost out, you?” Aaron asks.

“Yeah, I’ve just two magazines left,” I’m not nearly naive enough to believe that it’s enough to repel the rest of the Russian forces.

Suddenly, I can hear the pounding of dozens of feet across the marble floor below us. Aiming down the sights, I shoot at the Russian soldiers, catching them
unawares as I take down soldier after soldier. Just then, I hear the door opening behind me.

I spin around, but I’m too slow – a man walks through the door with a spas 12 shotgun, shooting Aaron in the chest at point blank. As he flies backwards, I level my gun at the Russian’s
chest, pumping him full of lead. I kneel next to Aaron to check his vitals and confirm what I already knew – our team of 5 has just been reduced to 4.

I run back down the stairs, rejoining my squad by the turnstiles. Jess and Andrew were both KIA. Hudson is back too, our C4 trap ready to be used against the army. “Just another couple of
minutes guys, hang in there!” I shout out as another RPG flies past me.

I reach for another grenade, tossing it into the fray. “Where’s Bravo Squad??” James shouts at me, “They should be back by now!”

Leaving cover, I run to the small cafe a couple metres to my left. It’s built into the wall, a small bar with 4 barstools in front of a small cooking area. Sliding over the bar, I take cover
in the main part of the Cafe before pulling out my radio.

Before I can say anything though, Misfit radios us. “Delta 4, Bravo squad was shot out of the sky, suspected KIA, repeat, KIA.”

I curse, “Misfit Actual, we need backupnow, or we are all dead!”

“I’m sorry Delta 4, the closest squad is over an hour away, just hang in there,”

“Roger that,”

I curse, looks like the four of us are on our own for good. This is a battle we can’t win - we’re going to die here. The thought doesn’t scare me as much as it probably should. When you’ve
been in the spearhead of the American Military for as I have, death and sacrifice becomes nearly a daily occurrence for you.

Taking a deep breath, I peek out from behind cover. The Russians are getting closer, and only Hudson, James and I are left. “Get ready to move back!” Directly behind us the hallway turns
sharply, leading to our booby-trapped stairs and behind that, the doors to the street.

“Throwing a flashbang!” As it temporarily stuns the enemy soldiers, I dart out from the Cafe, racing around the corner of the hallway towards the staircase and ducking behind a soda machine.
James races past me, hiding behind a snack machine on the other side of the hallway.

“Where’s Hudson?”

“They got him!” James replies, shooting down the Russians as they run around the corner. I curse, Hudson had the C4 detonator…it’s useless without him!

Pulling the spent magazine from my rifle, I grab my last magazine. “Last mag!” I shout out, popping it in and yanking back the slide.

Just then, a small brown sphere rolls towards the pop machine. “Crap, grenade!!” I shout, sprinting from behind the pop machine. I only barely make it to the bottom of the staircase before a
bullet slams into my thigh. “I’m hit!” I shout, as I fall to the ground. Rolling into a sitting position, I grab my assault rifle, shooting at the oncoming Russians.

James grabs the back collar of my Kevlar vest, dragging me back as he suppresses the enemy with his Mp7 submachine gun. “Just leave me!” I shout at him, taking out another two soldiers
from the ground. “We’re both done for if you don’t leave now!”

“I’m not leaving you behind, Carlos!”

Surprisingly though, we make it to the top of the staircase, leaving a thin trail of blood all the way. As my gun runs out of ammo, James is shot in the chest, falling back. “Sorry…Carlos…”
He says with his dying breath, dropping his Mp7 next to me.

“James!!” With my last squad member dead, and my rifle out of ammo, there’s no hope of getting out of here in one piece. Grabbing my last grenade, I rip out the pin before remembering the C4
surrounding me. Looking down, I can see two sets of plastic explosive on the stairs below me, and I’m sure there are countless others up the walls and ceiling.

If I’m going down, I might as well go out with a bang I say to myself, watching the Russian soldiers race around the corner towards me. “Sayonara, motherfuckers,” I mutter, dropping the
grenade and watching it bounce slowly down the steps towards the C4. For a split second after it detonates, everything around me is a bright blend of oranges and reds , and then everything goes
black.